Some days feel like a midnight pause at the single signaled intersection in a sleeping Kansas town. Winds swirl around you like a flood of memories while the sky is broad and heavy and roiling and moist and hoarse, and the wheat silently swaying in the surrounding farm fields whispers the names of longings and loves that have moved on through your life, and you realize you’ve been here before- and you’re not sure if you are coming, or going- or if you will ever get on out of this lonesome place.